


Smile Like a Friend

by orphan_account



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Drabble, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midnight is just the right stage for a plot-twist kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile Like a Friend

**Author's Note:**

> From a first-times-fic tumblr challenge. The timeline is pretty ambiguous because I wasn't sure where to place it myself, so imagine what you will!

Abed Nadir has approximately four seconds before Troy Barnes kisses him.

It’s not just a suspicion he has; Troy is physically getting closer with every passing moment, the blending of before into now, whatever ‘now’ _is_.

There’s no reason for Abed to reject it: he already knows what it’s going to taste like, imprinting Troy over his teeth, tongue. Mostly because he knows what Troy had for dinner, sure, but because this first kiss isn’t _new_. Nothing’s _ever_ new. Friends have kissed friends like this before, and Abed had a feeling it might happen ever since Troy woke him up just to talk, about half an hour ago into midnight.

They’re on Abed’s bed, top bunk, Abed cross-legged atop his pillows while Troy writhes to shuffle closer. It’s unceremonious, unprompted. Abed isn’t worrying about that. 

Three seconds.

Troy, hands-and-knees, roots said hands on Abed’s sides and said knees within the blankets. Abed stays sitting up, the logical reaction; he stiffens, but only because he hadn’t been expecting it to feel like this. His legs jerk, only slightly, still with ankle upon ankle but with thighs raised, unbearably tense.

What’s his body trying to tell him? That he should kick Troy off the bed?

He’s never been too in-tune with his musculature, but he knows his thoughts. Knows what he wants, what he’s comfortable with – and he most certainly doesn’t want to do _that_.

Still, he wasn’t given enough warning to do this whole thing properly. Is the lighting right? Is the atmosphere suitably… atmospheric? The romance genre was always his weakest. There’s no audience to serve as assurance, and if they’re down to two seconds, then it’s lamentable there’s no music to swell behind them. Nothing drips with violin haste, a thrilling crescendo as a means to an end; it’s not _cinematic_ , but kisses like this are meant to be spontaneous.

Filmed shaky and hand-held, dropped and smashed.

 _Well_. It’s spontaneous only on Troy’s end. Abed takes the full force of every second because he can’t _stop_ , can’t bring himself to close his eyes in case he misses something. Every trembling tissue in Troy’s body is important, an indication as to how much he really wants this. How adamant he is about closing the quickly-diminishing gap between their mouths.

Please let Annie be asleep. Please don’t let Annie walk in. Please.

Trembling too, Troy’s throat bobs, swallowing down whatever he might’ve said in last-minute retreat. His hands slope from their strategic hold, resting just over the small of Abed’s back instead – splaying slowly enough for Abed to lie, pretend he feels the whorls of Troy’s fingertips through his pyjama-top. It’s too late for improvisation.

They’d been talking, that’s all, exchanging ruminations because Troy couldn’t sleep. _I don’t get girls_ , he spoke in sighing; _I just don’t understand them._

 _I don’t get Britta_ , being the most important. _I only get me, and Abed Nadir._

So maybe that’s why they’re _doing_ this, the final propulsion. Abed is vaguely aware of tense skin and hollow cheeks, tense with the need to get it right more than any fear of aftermath. Troy’s lips are warm, scorching; Abed could blame the faulty thermostat for the sudden fixation on warmth but he can’t, not when arms slide around him and heat-shivers patter through his spine.

Troy’s mouth isn’t soft. Abed’s isn’t either, it can’t be; it wouldn’t be soft like Britta’s because he doesn’t take care of it in the way she does, neglected in favour of open-mouthed awe at Inspector Spacetime, or something. If he can share his critic’s noises with Troy, then it’s not so weird to think he could share a plot-twist kiss, too – because to Abed, they’re both just as intimate.

Rationale aside, he doesn’t know what Troy’s expecting from him. That’s the worst part. Feebly dipping his head back when Troy does, he loops his own arms around Troy’s middle, in awe of how Troy manages to stay propped up like that because by now, Abed’s legs would have given way. When his eyes close, it’s not because he _wants_ them to, but because he feels he _has_ to, to give this the reverence it deserves.

Fade to black. Someone’s gonna end up leaving the room, embarrassed.


End file.
